


The Promise

by Benedicthiddleston



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, Illness, M/M, The Promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's dying. His final request is to be within the confines of his ship - his beautiful lady the <i>USS Enterprise</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, March is the month of [BINGO! At 1_Million_Words](http://1-million-words.livejournal.com/559180.html). This one-shot is from two prompts on [my bingo card](http://i956.photobucket.com/albums/ae45/heffermonkey/March%20Bingo/hurt1.jpg): the Promise and Cuddles. Major angst, hurt/comfort, love, and epic heartbreak. Major character death.
> 
> Proofread once, no beta, and I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!

**The Promise**

_Spock, you should know he doesn’t have long. I – I don’t know what is wrong. His heart just – it’s erratic. I could do a pacemaker, a transplant, but he’s too stubborn to take the treatments. Maybe you can convince him. You should see him. He needs you right now_.

The conversation echoes in Spock’s mind as he strides down the hospital corridor. The bright windows make him wonder if he really is in the hospital – usually it is white walls that adorn the world that is the inside of a hospital. However, he remembers clearly that the intensive care unit was far gloomier than the Cardiology unit Spock progressively moves further into at that moment, his eyes searching earnestly for his lover’s room.

It ends up being the last room on the hall, a brunette, brown eyed nurse walking out of the room just as Spock reaches the threshold.

“No visitors allowed at this time,” she says mechanically, blocking the path.

“I’m his – husband,” Spock hesitates. They had never used the terms since their bonding ceremony three years before. But it felt far more appropriate now to announce that they were legally joined together. Homosexual marriage had been a part of everyone’s equal, protective rights since the year 2036.

She eyes him with a scrutiny Spock wishes everyone didn’t have in regards to the awkward pairing Jim Kirk and he seemed to attract far too frequently. He was Vulcan, Jim was Human. They were _happy_ together. “He said no to everyone.”

A feebly cough from inside the room makes Spock startle. He is afraid. He ignores the protests of the obviously young nurse and steps into the room. “Jim?”

Spock finds his once able-Captain shivering under a thin white blanket, his eyes closed and his coughs progressing into retching that only barely manages to land into a nearby bowl settled on the ground. Jim is curled up on his side, his right hand curled into the sheet, white and tightly holding onto the fabric, _visible pain_ everywhere.

_We can’t find the source of the chest pain. It is likely his heart, but everything looks – normal. Except he’s acting like every one of his organs is shutting down. If he keeps this up, he’ll be on a respirator before the week comes to an end. Heck, we already have him on five liters of oxygen a minute. He’s stubborn and doesn’t want to mask, so I made a compromise that the nasal cannula stays in. Make sure he’s obeying doctor’s orders._

“Jim,” Spock utters for the second time, stepping up beside the bed.”

“You –“ Jim coughs, gritting his teeth in pain. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Spock swallows. He does not know how much Dr. McCoy has told Jim – the truth, hopefully. However, it does not seem – logical to go. Not while the love of his life _dies_. “I would not desire to be anywhere else but here, at your side.”

Jim coughs, shaking like a leaf. His face tells a story of vulnerability and exhaustion. He reaches up with whatever strength he has and grasps onto Spock’s wrist. “What – did he tell you?”

_Everything. Nothing._

“The truth.”

Spock watches as Jim winces, whether from pain or fear or internal _regret_ he cannot say, and gently takes his lovers hand in his.

“Don’t – don’t watch this happen.” _Not again_.

It is the unspoken words through their bond that make Spock _almost_ fall apart. Because he knows he is not strong enough to watch Jim Kirk die for a second time. But he will not leave his lover to die alone.

Spock leaves the room for a brief second to find a chair, determined to stay by his lover’s side. Once settled, he takes Jim’s outstretched hand once again. “What do you wish of me?”

 _Anything but this. Anything at all._ It is a silent plea in Jim’s eyes, his eyelids half-heavy and his heart breaking. “To be free.”

The silence stretches as Spock wrestles with how exactly to respond to that, but Jim beats him to the punch. “I want to go home.”

 _Home. The_ Enterprise _. Just one last time. I want to die there._

“I can arrange that. Dr. McCoy can-“

Jim winces in pain, and Spock stops short. “You need something for pain.”

“I-I-I’m _fine_. Just – please don’t tell him. He’s –“

“ _Jim._ ”

“I don’t want to die here. Please. Please,” and Spock watches helplessly as his lover starts to cry, whether from heartbreak or pain or fear, Spock is sure it is all three.

“I will talk to Dr. McCoy.”

Silence envelops the room as Jim falls into an uneasy sleep. The nurse comes back in an hour later, recording vitals and administering a hypospray.

Two hours later, when the sun had gone from the windows and the world around them was dipped into the eerie lights of machinery and the mediocre overhead light that displayed Jim’s shallow breathing, Dr. McCoy walked in looking haggard and at a loss.

“How is he?”

Spock squeezes Jim’s hand and lets out a held breath. “Broken.”

Leonard nods and sits heavily onto the bench beside the window. “He wouldn’t tell me what he wanted me to do. Did he tell you?”

Spock nods, but doesn’t elaborate. He is unsure if he will ever be ready to tell someone the secrets Jim Kirk has proven him of worth to keep since they had first met barely short of eight years before. But this one – this longing desire to die on the _Enterprise –_ seems the most painful.

“You should know I will do anything he wants. Even if I… might regret it.”

A small sigh. When had his Vulcan standards broken? When he found out his lover’s body was betraying him again? That things were grim and downright bleak? “He wishes to die on the Enterprise.”

This does not elicit a surprised response from the doctor. Instead – “I figured that was going to be his request. I can get the transfer orders tomorrow. Heck, he could be back in the Captain’s seat by Thursday morning. He’ll need advanced medical care – I can hire a hospice nurse to look after him.”

Spock does not know how to speak of what he knew Jim had been thinking. _Let me die without this hanging over me_. In respects, Spock should have assumed Jim would fade from the world totally excluded from the medical interventions that would keep him alive for just a few _seconds_ longer.

He clears his throat and manages to tell Dr. McCoy the truth. “He won’t need one.”

“And what, you’ll manage everything? His medications, his pain, his need for constant oxygen? Because it isn’t easy, Spock. And you aren’t a trained registered nurse or even a medical doctor. You don’t know it all. You know basic emergency skills like the rest of Starfleet, except for those who went into the healthcare field. He needs hospice care.”

 _You misunderstand_. “He just wants to give up peacefully.”

“On the _Enterprise_. Without medical intervention. God, why is he such a stubborn idiot?!”

_Spock… Spock…_

_Yes, T’hy’la?_

He watched his bond mate’s eyes move behind closed eyelids, his mind attempting to connect with the bond in their brain as he awoke. Spock knew Jim’s sleep would be interrupted frequently, especially within the hospital environment. If anything, Spock was beginning to feel the _Enterprise_ would be best suited for Jim’s needs in this difficult time. No distractions. Just rest.

“I’m not stubborn,” Jim says tiredly, his hand curling into Spock’s with ease. Spock still can see past the sleepy smile, into the eyes filled with hurt and pain. _So much pain_.

“Oh yes you are, you –“ Dr. McCoy stopped short as he realized he was crossing a line. He stood up, walking towards the bed. He ended up standing beside Spock’s chair, looking down at his best friend. When he spoke again, he was quiet, _remorseful_. “Jim, I – I can’t lose you.”

 _But you have to. You have to let me go_. “I know. But please – just let me… on the _Enterprise_ , one last –time.”

“I can do that, kid. I can. But I – I can’t just let you go up there without medical technology, buddy.”

 _Just let me go, please… just let me go…_ “I’m sorry, but it – it is what I want.”

Dr. McCoy knew he was losing an already lost battle. _I’m going to lose him_. “Okay, Jim. I’ll see what I can do.”

Jim smiled. “Thank you.”

With a huff and a few more carefully picked words, Dr. McCoy was gone, leaving Jim to focus on Spock.

“Don’t. Be mad with me.”

Spock wanted to hold his lover, and tell him he could never be mad. _Only sad_. “I will respect your wishes, Jim.”

“Will you – hold me? I’m cold, Spock. I’m so cold.”

Without another word, Spock obeys. He faces Jim, gently moving his form back to make room as he slides into the space the bed allows for Spock to lie in with his arms around Jim’s form. He tucks Jim’s head under his chin and brings Jim close, holding him as requested. As Jim’s shivering evens out and his breathing passes for adequate, Spock whispers Vulcan love into the night as Jim slips into a troubled and anguished sleep.

* * *

Dr. McCoy works his miracle. By 1300 the next day, Jim is sitting in a wheelchair, awaiting transport to the medical shuttle that would take them to his _baby_. He wouldn’t call the Enterprise anything less. She would always be his. It was in dock for the next few months for repairs, and while Jim would not live to see her next voyage, he wanted to give her one last loving grace – his own spirit. If Vulcans believed in katras and some people believed in ghosts and others in God, then why couldn’t Jim believe in his spirit being within his own Constitution class beauty?

The oxygen no longer hinders Jim’s movements; there is no IV, no other tubes or wires keeping Jim tied to a death bed in the cardiology wing of Starfleet Medical. The only medical thing in his possession now is a small bag filled with emergency hyposprays that Spock has been instructed on how and when to use. Most are pain medications. A few are to help with breathing if Jim becomes cyanotic or anxious before he is okay with passing.

It takes all of Dr. McCoy’s strength not to force Jim to have at least oxygen. Without it, Jim’s capacity of living much longer falls to maybe a few days, if not a number of hours. Jim’s heart will not do well without the oxygen, and he needs it desperately. Things look bleak, and Bones just knows he is losing his touch.

“Okay, Jim, I’m going to give you and Spock a few hours alone up there. I’ll be up there tonight at around 2200, and then I won’t leave you, okay? I’m going to see this through.”

Jim’s smile is small and uneasy. “I know,” he says shortly. He’s trying to concentrate mostly on breathing and thinking about the idea of being on the _Enterprise_ soon. He just has to make it to his baby. Then he can die. That’s all.

No one addresses the elephant in the room: what about the crew that is now scattered across the universe? What about Jim’s mother? His brother? What will they be told when Jim is dead and the only two people who were there to watch him go were his bond mate and his best friend?

Unfortunately, Jim knows he doesn’t have time to argue over the people he knows needs to know – especially his mother, brother, and crew. But he is running out of time.

“The transport if ready for you,” a nurse calls from the doorway.

Spock grips the wheelchair handles and as Jim holds tight to a blanket, the medical bag, and a stuffed teddy bear from JoAnna, they exit the hospital room and head for the roof.

Thirty minutes later, Jim is grasping Spock’s hand and smiling as they find themselves docking within the bowels of his beautiful, currently-under-renovation ship. The one-and-only _USS Enterprise, NCC-1701_. She had been Jim’s for a little over seven years. And now he would lose her to. To whom – the uncertainty was there. Jim knew Spock would not continue in Starfleet if Jim was not there. Which begged to question: what would Spock do once Jim was gone?

He didn’t get a chance to ask then as they were helped from the transport, saluted, and together the bonded pair began the trek to the bridge. Jim wanted to sit in the chair and talk for as long as he could.

A few minutes later, after diverting past a current renovation and getting into the only accessible and still functioning turbolift, they found themselves on an empty bridge. It looked exactly as Jim had left it two months before. So much had changed since then. So much – heartbreak. And now he was back – for the last time.

Spock helped Jim into the Captain’s chair, and found himself at a loss for words as he settled into a cross-legged position on the floor directly in front of where Jim was seated. The countdown had begun – how long until it hit zero, Spock wasn’t sure.

Jim sighed and closed his eyes as he essentially felt himself melt into the comfort of the very, very familiar feel of the Captain’s chair. While every inch of his body was in pain, especially his lungs and chest (he figured his heart was having a minor freak out at that point), it felt _good,_ _okay really_ being in the chair one last time.

“Are you in need of any pain medication?” Spock could not think of anything else to start off the obviously lengthy conversation they were about to participate in.

Jim shook his head. “I’m fine, Spock.”

The minute changes in Jim’s breathing were only obvious to Spock, and if Spock had had a medical tricorder on him, he knew the readings would not be good.

Silence enveloped them once again, and Spock felt himself drop into a meditative state.

 _It is okay, you know_.

_Okay is variable – Okay can mean a lot of things. You do not get to tell me this is okay._

_I’m okay with it, Spock. I’m okay with dying._

His eyes snapped open as he found Jim staring at him. “But I am not.”

“I’m _sorry_. I can’t – what did you want me to do?”

_Take Dr. McCoy’s interventions._

_They wouldn’t have worked. I would have died before a transplanted heart could be found. And a pacemaker wouldn’t fix me. You know that._

_Don’t keep me away, my T’hy’la. I don’t want to be away from you at this time._

_Never, Spock. Never._

Without another word, telepathically or vocally, Spock stood and picked Jim up into his arms. He held him close, gently placing a human kiss on Jim’s forehead. “I want to hold you close until you are no longer here.”

Jim didn’t have to answer as he grasped Spock’s shirt, answering yes all the same.

Spock settles into the Captain’s chair, allowing Jim to snuggle close. They had always used to enjoy cuddles while in their joined quarters while on missions. It was their time to take each other in, mentally and physically and emotionally, without the sex. There had been sex in their life – no doubt about that. Pon Farr had occurred once in their time together. However, Spock was unsure what would happen next. He would rather die than bond with someone else once Jim was gone. That thought alone made the pain worse in his heart.

_Promise me you will keep living. No matter what happens, please, keep living._

_I cannot keep such a promise. You are my life, my – my everything_

_I can’t lose you._

_You won’t lose me. I will be yours, forever._

_Please, just promise me._

“Shhh, my love. Everything will be all right.” And Spock is unsure why he says it, because he knows, _he knows_ , everything will not be all right. Jim will die soon, in a matter of _hours_ , if they are not lucky to have the days. Promising to live when Jim is no longer around to hold him to that promise is futile. However, he cannot even agree to the fact that everything would be all right. It would not. It would never be all right – never again.

Jim’s shivering begins again and his breathing picks up. His exhaustion is apparent. “Sleep, my love. I will be here when you wake up.”

So that is what they do – Jim falls into a fitful sleep in the arms of his lover as they sit in the Captain’s chair on the bridge of the _USS Enterprise_. And Spock silently cries. The tears are too real. Far too real.

* * *

Seven hours later, Jim is in a massive amount of pain and barely holding onto reason. His breathing is erratic, and he clings to Spock’s waist, his head jammed into the crook of his lover’s elbow.

They had moved from the bridge to Jim’s second favorite spot on his ship – the observation deck on Deck C. One hour previously, Dr. McCoy had shown up, his lack of a medical bag and a tricorder and obvious reason for contention. However, he moves past the anger into soft, soothing voices as Jim moans, tears evident in his eyes.

“You’re okay, Jim. You just have to ask for something if you want it. I’m here. Spock is here. We’re here.”

_I don’t want anything! I JUST WANT TO DIE!_

Spock rocks Jim’s battered body back and forth, hoping the motion helps. He has nothing but his calm and his protection through their shared bond to give. Dr. McCoy has offered countless times the medication waiting just within reach, to help ease the pain and allow Jim to breathe somewhat easier.

Except even Jim knows that his Bones wishes he had taken the practical approach – medical intervention, including oxygen, all the pain medication, possible a heart transplant – anything but die in agony as he was right then.

Jim just wants it all to end. He is tired. So tired. He feels his breathing slow. But not fast enough, as the pain is multiplied. He feels Spock fold himself around his shaking, pain filled body as he screams.

Minutes pass until Jim manages to overcome the intense pain.

And then it is like a wave of calm.

His head sags and his body slips into a resting position as he weakly holds onto Spock’s clothing, his breathing barely making a dent in the consciousness that he is slowly losing.

“We’re here, Jim,” comes that all too-familiar gruff voice laced with pain. Jim knows Bones is crying. Has been since he first diagnosed him.

“I’m tired, Bones,” Jim whispers, his eyes shut against the brightest of the world around him. He doesn’t even feel his next breath; they are so few and far between.

“I know, kid. You can – don’t hold back for me. Or for Spock, okay?”

He feels Spock’s hands cup his face as he struggles to take another breath. _I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I love you, oh god, I love you, so much._

Dr. McCoy had always expected Jim to die of a heart attack or even the opposite of this awful apnea that was currently occurring, but instead the pair of Jim’s knitted family sits in the only observation deck that isn’t being remodeled and watches Jim take a breath and wait with baited breath to see if he takes another.

_I love you, T’hy’la. Ek'wak. Taluhk nash-veh k'dular. Hal-tor svi' let'theiri._

And then Spock feels, instead of hears, Jim’s final breath. The bond that had been so neat and tidy and _strong and wonderful and perfect and steady_ within Spock’s mind winked out in an instant.

The pain is almost too much to contend with as he grips his lifeless lover’s body. _My t’hy’la. My t’hy’la._

Beside him, Dr. McCoy sobs.

And there is nothing left for them to say. Nothing left for them to act upon. They had lost their most treasured thing – and there was no getting him back now.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per probing questions by Talltree-san, I created this 1584 word epilogue.
> 
> Hope it doesn't disappoint. Same warnings as first chapter apply. I own nothing.

**_Three years later_ **

The idea that he would have arrived at New Vulcan now was unprecedented.

 _He thinks I can keep going, because I would find someone else to bond with. He is wrong_.

The absence of the bond with Jim in his mind had tortured Spock since that day. He’d been seen by too many healers and too many elders to find peace. They assumed he would have gone mad long before this day. They were wrong.

“Spock, I – I know it is your choice, however-“

“No, none of that. I came to you to ask your help.”

“This isn’t helping you, this is –“

“ _It is._ Will you do what I ask?”

The sigh is drawn out, but the elder Spock’s eyes say it all. _Of course_. “I do not agree, and you know that.”

“You’ve had to live without him. You should know how this feels.”

“He died long after I passed my last Pon Farr.”

“Then you do not understand.”

“Spock-“

The younger man groaned and moved away from his counterpart. “I must go before it is too late.”

“Too late to what? Die? Because that is what you are doing, and what you asking me to allow you to do. And somehow I have agreed to it.”

Spock shook his head, hating it. _I miss him. I need him._ He knew what he was doing. He knew his katra would be lost. But he didn’t _care_. “I must go.”

“Spock-“

But the Ambassador could not stop his younger self from promptly leaving. _I will abide by his wishes. But I cannot stay silent._

He knew what he needed to do.

* * *

The sun shone bright and _deadly_ as he put one foot in front of the other across the desert. He was escaping all civilization in hopes that this would work.

He had resigned himself to going mad and dying. The Pon Farr had started three days before, and the worst would come upon him very soon.

He hoped it would just all end. He would not mate with another, and that alone sentenced him to death. He would rather die this way than another. Madness was all he had left. _Pain and sorrow and madness_.

It dragged on as he walked. The growing feeling of needing to touch someone, anyone. To love and be loved. _Jim, my Jim_. But he was gone. And that alone made him shudder in grief.

He was willing to die, in this way.

So it would happen, so it be done.

* * *

_God, who convinced me to do this? Who the hell convinces me to go out into the blasted desert searching for a crazed mating Vulcan who just wants to die?_

Dr. Leonard McCoy was sour. He’d gotten the emergency request twelve hours ago to come to New Vulcan and _STOP SPOCK. STOP HIM NOW!_ Why the Ambassador wanted _McCoy_ of all people to hunt down the crazed Vulcan was beyond him. Maybe because he was the only one who might have some idea of stopping the Vulcan.

But McCoy knew it would be fruitless. It would not work.

The medical bag in his grasp felt heavy, but he knew he needed it. Anything at all to help fight and detain a Vulcan that was willing to give it all up not to mate, to die because _Jim_ was gone.

 _T’hy’la. Boy is this one crazy love story_. It was more of a joke to himself, but McCoy knew he couldn’t just give up. Spock had mentioned Jim’s request – the promise to keep going. But Spock was going to break that. It was almost a certainty. And now McCoy was left to pick up the pieces.

So he kept moving forward, in search of a wayward Vulcan that may or may not live to see the next sunrise.

 _God, maybe this is hopeless_.

* * *

Two of the three New Vulcan moons were at full height that night, midnight glaring at anyone who would protest. It gave enough light for McCoy to see the shape of a body sprawled across the sand.

“Oh hell no,” he muttered, dropping to his knees next to the absently unmoving Vulcan. “Spock.”

No answer came.

He put a gentle hand against Spock’s neck, feeling for a pulse. _Fast, thready,_ there. “Come on, you big idiot. Wake up.”

The Vulcan stirred, eyes opening slowly. No recognition could be found in the eyes that stared back at the doctor.

“Jim…”

“No, Spock, it’s Leonard. Remember, Jim’s best friend? The idiot doctor who came out here to save you?”

The look of confusion on Spock’s face told McCoy he didn’t understand. Or didn’t remember. McCoy wasn’t sure what happened to Vulcan’s past the point of no return in their mating season. He didn’t seem to be interested in attacking him, but McCoy hoped he could at least bring – life or peace or _something_ in this situation.

“He lied.”

“If by ‘he’ you mean your counterpart, no he didn’t. He just bent the rules and sent me out here to save you.”

“No one can save me.”

“You are a stubborn Vulcan. Would you at least admit this idea is awful? What are you accomplishing?”

Spock winced and groaned, scooting away from the doctor, his hands clenching into fists. “Go away.”

“Spock-“

“DEATH IS PREFERABLE TO ALL OF THIS. And unless you knock me out, I might well attack you and I don’t think you want that, doctor. You shouldn’t have come.”

He gritted his teeth, holding back a retort. _And I only came out here because you are a stubborn asshole_. “Then what the _hell_ do you want me to do?”

“Go back. Go away. Either will do.”

“What if I _won’t_?”

“Kill me.”

 _God, I’m a medical doctor. I save people’s lives. I saved Jim once upon a time. I… I mercifully killed my own father. What am I supposed to do_?

_Kill me._

“Please.” It was whispered.

McCoy could visibly see the pain. It was obvious. Pon Farr would kill Spock. It was just a choice of whether McCoy would allow it to be the worst pain or a silent passing.

He was conflicted.

“I can’t – it isn’t – I’m _not_ –“

“ _Then go_. _Now_.”

But McCoy was stubborn himself. And his own heart was telling him something else. _A merciful death is preferable to a misery of a life. And a miserable death._

He dragged the medical bag to his side and rummaged around inside, pulling out the hypo and three anesthetics.

“I can put you to sleep. It’s the… only thing I can think of to give you – _keep you comfortable_.” He regretted saying it. _This is wrong. So wrong. SO WRONG._

And then another whispered few words – “Thank you.”

With a shit ton of regret, McCoy administered all three anesthetics. He figured it wouldn’t completely end the Vulcan’s misery in one shot, but put him out for the rest of whatever time it took for his body to stop rebelling against him and cut the string tying him to this world from the next. Vulcan physiology was different, however the three medications combined slowed the Vulcan’s breathing and helped the tension drain from his fighting body. Spock’s eyes closed and the waiting began.

 _Didn’t I just do this? Three years ago? Didn’t I watch my best friend die? And now I’m watching this idiot die because he can’t live without Jim? Because somehow I’m the one that has to watch everyone die._ He isn’t indifferent to death, but he isn’t immune to it. He is a doctor. He can’t be all emotional over every death.

But the death of his best friend had hit him hard. It hadn’t been fair, and it hadn’t been right.

Now he was watching his best friend’s fucking _husband_ die.

 _This is hopeless_.

He hadn’t exactly promised he would save Spock when the Ambassador had requested his help. He’d said _I’ll see what I can do_. Maybe that also meant giving the struggling Vulcan a peaceful out. A death that would mean nothing, but at least wouldn’t be _painful_.

It felt like days to McCoy, sitting there, _waiting_. Ambassador Spock hadn’t requested any proof – if the younger Spock did not return, he would understand. Whatever connotation that meant.

So when the sun rose the next morning and Spock’s shallow breathing continued, McCoy continued to sit.

The chronometer, in McCoy’s defense, would read 0859 when the Vulcan would at last cease all respirations. At 0901, McCoy would remark the fact no heartbeat could be found. He would put away his stethoscope and his hypo and breathe out a long sigh.

He would pick up his bag, and then become uncertain of what to do with a Vulcan body in the desert miles away from the nearest resource.

 _Leave me. Go_.

Everything would be muddled in his brain, but he wouldn’t help but feel the loss of just leaving the younger Vulcan’s body there.

He would, though. His exhaustion would be apparent as the sun continued its assault on his senses and functioning. He would never be able to carry Spock back to be buried.

In time, McCoy would forgive himself for his trespasses. He not only had a part in both Jim’s death, but in Spock’s. And then he carelessly let Spock fade into the wind of sand and dust.

He quietly left the spot of the Vulcan’s death and didn’t look back. He had failed – failed what, he wasn’t sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Vulcan translations:
> 
>  _Ek'wak. Hal-tor svi' let'theiri_ – Forever. Go in peace.
> 
>  _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_ – I cherish thee


End file.
